A Ship's Oath (Azur Lane Oneshots)
by Eriendor
Summary: On the naval base of distant dreams...
1. Chapter 1

You push the papers back from the edge of the desk with a sigh. When you were 'given' this position you didn't quite realize how much in the way of busy work this would entail. Commissions are paperwork, build orders are paperwork, equipment changes and construction orders to Akashi are once again paperwork. It is only through the diligence of your pen and your faithful secretary that keeps it from meeting the ceiling.

The scent of fine wood and tea tickles your nose as you take a deep breath. The dark wood that makes up your office a design decision spawned from your first fleet and first command. The Union Jack hangs in the forms of bunting over each window. While you may be an American commander you still are subject to their 'whims' as such. Not that you mind really, your old office at Annapolis was decidedly drab.

That and the English ships do make a mean pot of coffee, so you are at least kept alive as you fight the paperwork monster.

Even this early in the morning the scent of tea still lingers in the air, long days and longer nights are the main selling point of the war against the sirens. Still, at the very least you aren't the only ones this early. The shouts and laughs from outside revealing that the destroyers are already up doing their morning exercises.

It bothered you a bit at first with just how childish they could be. In most senses they are children, but they _are_ still machines of war more than they are human, a fact that you are reminded of more often than not. That, and you also have to babysit the marines on base, so more than one thing around can be surprisingly childlike and _dangerous when bored_.

… 2nd Marine is still banned from hanging out with Bogue after teaching her the knuckleball. How she managed to destroy the mess with a baseball you neither understand nor particularly care to investigate further. Still, they are remarkably human, a fact you find yourself uncomfortably facing as you have gotten to know them more.

A click turns your head towards the door, the heavy oak slowly opening to reveal your secretary. A tall woman, easily a head taller than your already larger than average six feet. She is blonde in hair, the strands tucked to one side in a braid to rest on her shoulder. She's dressed in her own custom uniform like many of the ships, though she is one of the few that dresses in something that almost approximates an _actual_ uniform. A long blue dress with a British Flag motif, along with a white bonnet hat with a little model of her rigging on it.

She pauses when she spots you behind the desk, her hand pressing against her mouth before she smiles lightly. "Good morning, Commander. Care for a cup of coffee?" Her voice is light but mature all the same, with that faint hint of… power all ship girls have. It is hard to describe and it was even harder to get used to, their voices echo faintly whenever they speak, the ringing of metal audible with every word. That, and a British accent of course in her case.

Nowadays you just consider it part of the charm, and the more you adjust the harder it is to notice. "That would be lovely, thank you Hood."

Your secretary nods and moves over to the small countertop at the edge of the office near the windows that overlook the berth. Her heels click against the hardwood floor, a familiar and calming sound. With a sigh, you pull the chair back and take a seat behind your priso-

Desk. You meant desk of course.

"Early morning Commander?"

You reach and grab the first stack off the desk, reassignment forms… orders for more production. Akashi wants to make a pool out of beer?

"Commander?"

You look up from your musings to see your secretary staring at you from the counter, her head is slightly cocked as she waits for you to answer her question.

"Yes, sorry. Had issues sleeping last night." Precisely _why _you had trouble sleeping last night you don't specify. The cause wasn't the usual Akagi or someone else equally deranged, no it was a late delivery from headquarters. A small box, within which is a smaller box that is currently sitting within your desk drawer.

_Apparently_, the navy in its infinite wisdom has decided you need to be married, and unlike your average grunt that wants to avoid living in barracks this one has decidedly more drastic consequences. Namely the fact that a good dozen shipgirls have shown 'interest' already. Some more… violently than others. While you are sure she would be thrilled the day you give Roon a ring is the day you also lose your own life.

Still, it's a job… though you already have one candidate in mind. One you played with the idea of asking out before, present circumstances notwithstanding.

A faint 'click' grabs your attention, the sound of ceramic bouncing slightly on metal as Hood sets the tray onto the table. She gently picks up one of the cups, one hand moving to cover the top as she places it in front of you.

"I'm sorry to hear that, is everything alright?"

You nod, accepting the cup gratefully and taking a sip out of it. The running gag of 'navy coffee' is largely an out of date joke at this point, but even beyond the current adequate stock Hood makes a _fantastic_ cup of coffee.

The warmth does wonders for revitalizing you, and you allow it to wash over you a moment before you turn your focus back onto your secretary ship. "Ah, yes, sorry everything is fine… was just up late going over some new equipment that was delivered."

"Oh?"

You nod, gently setting the coffee back onto the table before opening the top desk of the drawer. "Do you have a moment Hood?"

The shipgirl nods, her heels clicking together as she stands more at attention. Her hands move to her waist, clasped together in the middle as she looks at you with curiosity. Your hand moves to open the desk drawer before you pause… No.

You are a man forty years of age, young for an admiral. Old enough for an officer, you can do this. Your reach the rest of the way forward and open the drawer, sitting next to your reading glasses and writing utensils is a small box, sealed by a simple bit of red string. You carefully remove it and cup it in your hands.

"Hood?"

"Sir?"

You turn to look at her again, the ring just barely hidden under the edge of the desk. Hood was the first ship assigned to you after Javelin, and she has been your secretary this past year. Whether on the frontlines or helping you through the utter mountain of work she has been an ever-present figure at your side. While there are certainly others that would benefit from the supposed upgrades the ring brings, there is nobody in your mind that deserves this more.

"I received a…" You clear your throat, a sudden wave of nervousness you haven't felt since OCS washing over you a moment. You slowly bring up the box and place it on the desk between the two of you, the battlecruiser's eyes lock onto it immediately. "It is an upgrade from headquarters, an 'oath ring', they wish for me to… marry one of you all. Supposedly it will allow you to become stronger."

Hood raises a single finger to her lips, the smile coming back. "I notice you put an emphasis on the word 'you' commander, would I be allowed to get my hopes up?"

You blush despite yourself. "I… yes, that is, if you are willing to accept it I would like to offer the ring-" You shake your head, and with more force than is probably necessary you push the chair back and stand up, grabbing the box you hold it forward. "Hood, would you allow me the honor of-"

A giggle escapes her lips cutting you off. A faint blush is on her cheeks as her shoulders shake, her blue eyes are alight with mirth and happiness. She stops after a moment, then with a beautiful smile moves her hand forwards to rest on top of yours.

"My dear commander, you cannot express your feelings to a lady this nervously. But your feelings have reached my heart." She gently opens the top of the box to gaze at the ring inside, her eyes misting slightly as she stares at it. After a long moment, she closes it again, the lid snapping shut as she turns her gaze back to you. "It would be Hood's pleasure, but first, shall we dance?"

The first in a series of oneshots.


	2. Z23

Your breath mists in the evening air as you watch the high tide rolling in. The smell of saltwater is strong in the air, that and the everpresent smell of fuel and industry. The cold in Kiel is a harsh beast, uncaring about the fact that you would enjoy doing your assigned tasks _without_ your balls freezing to your leg. Admittedly you've had far colder billings, but something about the air of Kiel bothers you more than most.

That, and you are an officer. Your job is to not be bothered by things, your task is to point at things so effectively other _lower_ officers get mad at things. Sadly however you could throw a good two to three dozen Leutnants at the sea and you doubt it would get any warmer.

… Even sadder is by the current standards you think they would do it if you told them to. The war against the sirens has been a nasty debacle, and more than one good friend has gone below the waves with his ship.

Thankfully however this union, 'Azur Lane' as they call it, has proven fortuitous. The combined forces of the Eagle Union, Royal Navy, Sakura Empire and your native Ironblood have proven quite effective at pushing them back. For now anyway.

"Admiral!"

You turn from your seagazing to see a small figure running up to you, her black and red cape flaps with the breeze and speed of her running. She comes to a skidding stop, her heels (deceptively made out of metal you found when she broke a table by stubbing her toe on it) spark against the concrete dock as she comes to a halt a good foot in front of you. Her cheeks are flushed, her smile is goofy and wide, and her silver hair is a mess shining in the bright orange of the twilight… Though to be fair it is _always a mess_ despite the best efforts of Königsberg.

Her hand snaps to her forehead in a sharp salute. "I have finished the paperwork!"

You blink, staring down at her. "Z1, unless stated otherwise I am _Herr_ Admiral. Or do I need to tell Köln that you are skipping proper procedure again?"

The destroyer blanches, her other hand raising to start waving frantically. "No! No admiral not needed I was just uh…"

"…" Her eyes dart to the side.

"You were excited to see me?"

She nods emphatically. "Yes, I was so excited to see you I skipped the full address in a sign of happiness and close fraternity! Our duo is the most powerful on the waves after all!"

You stare at her a moment longer then let out a sigh. You snap your hand up, the destroyer squeaking as it falls to land on top of her head. Her cap flattening under the weight as your glove presses down upon it. "Good work Z1, you can head back to the dorms."

She giggles and gives you another salute before sprinting off again, her heels clacking against the hard wet concrete as she runs off. A diligent girl, any captain would be proud to have her as a lead in a destroyer squadron. Yet the girl you are currently searching for is even more diligent than that.

You stare at the waves a moment longer before turning away from the docks towards the drydock. It's a gargantuan structure, though the majority of its space is hardly used as such these days. Gone are the days of laying massive tonnage, now everything is summoned barring the odd cargo ship.

Well, that and nobody has managed to summon a fishing boat yet.

No, now the drydock is a modified arsenal of sorts, the girls arm themselves there and receive their mission orders. It is also the second home of your secretary.

\- - -

With the sound of grinding metal the large doors of the drydock open to you, a red light above the door flashes, the light bathing the outside and a bit of the inside before you step through. More than one eager reporter has wanted to see the 'shipgirl command bunker' as they call it. Of course, it is an official state secret and nobody but a member of the Deutschmarine can enter, and then only those with special clearance can enter.

And as you stare at it in all of its majesty you feel they would be most disappointed if they got a look at it.

Boxes upon boxes, fuel, ammunition, rations, resting tanks. More and more and _more_ stack up along the walls towards the ceiling. The treaty with the Eagle Union has proven most beneficiary, while your nation can of course provide for itself, the lend-lease program has been nothing short of miraculous in what it has been able to supply.

Beyond the boxes are a series of open offices, small metal roofless structures that within which lie naval charts and heavy desks for planning commissions and general operations. Everything, of course, is actually planned at headquarters, but here the shipgirls can get a refresher and copies of their orders before they sortie. Beyond all of _that_ is the deep water of the dock, the large rap leading down to the water sealed with a massive gate of steel.

The sound of work is absent, no chatting shipgirls, no ammo racks being set up and loaded. Indeed the whole place is empty barring one occupant, in a far office near the very end of the structure is a familiar blonde. She's taller than her other destroyer sisters, even if she is technically 'younger' than some, she's more mature as well in other ways. Z1 hardly takes anything seriously at the best of times and Z35 is… Z35.

She is currently fully focused on writing notes, the large blackboard behind her showing the mathematics equation for finding the best speed of approach for a proper torpedo attack. The chairs behind the desks in front of her are kicked back, a sign that class must have let out earlier in the day, and also a sign that she has probably been working at that desk for several hours.

Your shoes click quietly against the floor, doing your best to remain quiet on metal plating as you walk up to the classroom. It's of little purpose, Z23 is so focused on her work she doesn't hear you even as you make your way up to and through the door into the classroom proper. The sound of a pen scratching on paper fills the air as she works on the next day's assignments, while a respectably large stack beside her is already filled out… and covered in red marks, so most likely the previous classes exam results.

When headquarters recommended making Z23 the tutor for the other shipgirls you had initially balked. The secretary was making fine work on the front lines and was diligently working as your second, but she did admittedly take to the assignment with all the gusto you have come to expect from her.

You step up and rap your fingers on one of the wooden desks. The destroyer jerking her head up. "46! I told you I would play with you once I finish with these pa… pers." Her cheeks go red as she realizes that no, you aren't the mascot of the naval base.

"Good evening Z23." You say with a smile.

The chair behind her scoots back so fast you are worried it dug a groove into the floor. Her hand raises in a crisp and _perfect_ salute. "Herr Kapitan, how might this ship assist you?"

You return the salute. "At ease, just wanted to check up on you, few things to talk about as well."

The destroyer lowers the hand slowly, her hands moving behind her back as she does her best approximation of 'at ease'. The girl has always attempted to set an example for others to follow for better or worse, though you are one of the few non-shipgirls that no of the rather adorable center underneath all of the military decorum she puts on.

"Herr Admiral I am happy to report that the classes for the day have gone we-"

You hold up a hand, her jaw clicking shut so fast you can hear her teeth click. "Now what did we agree my designation was when we were alone?"

The blush that had previously faded away comes back to lightly pink her cheeks, her eyes darting to the side. "Admiral… Baumann… sir."

"Thank you." You pull up one of the chairs near the large desk and sit down on it. One leg moving to cross over the other as you put your hand in your lap. You have to shift slightly to the awkward positioning of the box in your back pocket. "Continue?"

"Yes…" She shakes her head. "I mean yes! I am happy to report that the classes for the day have gone well. I have noted improvement across the board in terms of torpedo theory, I have additionally put in a request as well for U-406 to come by and teach classes on the subject."

You nod idly, listening as she rattles on the information. "You are allowed to take breaks you know. Or hire assistants."

She shakes her head before turning to look away from you towards the window. It is one of the few sources of natural light in the building, and through the thick and foggy glass, you can see the distant twinkle of the dock lights. The reds and greens are more easily visible now that the sun has nearly given up its grasp on the light.

"I… have been assigned away from the frontlines, and I am fine with that. Tirpitz, Roon, Bismarck, they can handle the missions while I maintain the base."

You smile at that. "I do believe _I_ maintain the naval base."

Z23 turns back, her face neutral. "I was assigned to this task alone and I shall maintain it alone. It is the least I can do for those out there fighting."

A silence falls between you both, you saying nothing as Z23 stares at the floor. Her hand reaches up to fiddle with the cross she wears in her hair, a common nervous habit of hers you have come to recognize. "Baumann?"

Oh? How rare of her to call you by your name alone. "Yes?"

"Did you know that the taller the peak you stand upon, the further you see, but the colder you get." Her hand moves from the cross to rest on her breast as she speaks. "I… work hard so that you and the rest of the fleet can be happy and work efficiently. I wish that you will reach the top one day, but I also wish that when that day comes, you will be as happy as you are now."

You stare at her, doing your best to not let any emotions show on your face. So this is why she is working so hard lately?

She lets out a sigh, the hand falling from her breast to rest at her side, her blue eyes staring at you imploringly.

You smile. "Well, I'll do my best on being happy. Though I don't plan on attempting it alone, was planning on getting married soon."

A brief look of surprise and _hurt_ flashes across her face before she contains it. She still looks a tad surprised however. "Married… sir?"

You nod again, slowly pushing yourself up from the seat. "Indeed, a pretty young blond, just about what every man would hope for."

She bites her lip, eyes downcast. "I am… happy for you sir, will you be leaving the base?"

… Right she is a bit thick when it comes to things like this. With a chuckle, you reach into your back pocket and produce the box. "No, I will be staying here… though if you are alright with it you shall be moving."

Her head lifts back up, confusion on her face and tears in her eyes. Her face searches yours a moment before they drift to the box, whereupon they widen dramatically.

"Baumann?"

You open the lid and reveal the ring. She doesn't respond, the tears at the edge her eyes now falling freely as she slowly moves her hand forward. When her finger touches the edge of the box she jerks a little, a wide smile coming onto her face as she looks back up at you.

"This symbolizes your recognition of me... I understand. Z23 shall stay by your side forever, and make your life as happy and prosperous as possible."

You gently take the ring out of the box, and in response Z23 gently pulls off her left glove. A hiccup escapes her as the ring slowly slides onto her finger. Once on, two things happen at once.

The first you expected, fresh tears pour down her face as she loses all sense of rigidity and decorum that previously held her up.

The second you didn't, as you grabs you by the lapel and slams her lips into yours.

"Ich liebe dich…"

\- - -

You duck back from the window, hands rising to cover your burning cheeks. Z46 doesn't understand… but it gives you a tingly feeling and big sister 23 looked so happy. You should ask big sister Roon about what you saw. 


	3. Amagi

**[Amagi]**

It's been sometime now since you first met Amagi, you drew her from the depths of the abyss. Her wisdom core retrieved and what was once forgotten and left to rot has flourished… even if it is still damaged.

Her sister, of course, was ecstatic, and for a while you needed a crowbar to separate the two sisters. Kaga could be easily found just by finding Amagi, though given the sheer look of joy Kaga had on her face from meeting her sister again you suppose you can't hold her clinginess against her. Not that Kaga was much of a smiler to begin with so it's a welcome change.

Even Akagi has calmed down a bit, _a small bit_, but a bit nonetheless, the oldest battlecruiser is remarkably effective at keeping her calm. She still has her… proclivities, but she is still far more in control than she used to be.

In all, her personality, guidance, and general maturity have been a welcome gift upon your naval base.

What you haven't expected was her own… clinginess.

A soft hum that sounds suspiciously like a purr sounds from the battlecruiser. Her head is resting in your lap, her face turned towards the garden. Or 'backyard' as the ships have grown to call it. While theirs is a multi-story 'barracks' (in reality it has hardly looked like once since you let them decorate) yours is a small one story abode near the edge of the naval base.

It's light on decoration or anything resembling charm, but that doesn't stop it from being one of the more popular spots for the ships to hang out either way. One hand of your rests on her head lightly scratching at the base of her ears while the other lay flat against the wooden porch overlooking your garden.

The battlecruiser, far from the stoic beauty you had first expected turned out to be quite the little devil. She's fierce to be sure, and most ships look up to her for a very good reason, but beyond that, she teases and jokes with the rest of them. That and she will fight like the rest of the ships for your attention.

Why precisely all the ships enjoy bothering you, you have yet to discern, but as long as it keeps them motivated you suppose you can't really afford to complain about it. "Enjoying yourself?"

Amagi lets out a giggle, the ears wiggling as she shifts her legs on the warm porch. "Commander I am merely… pondering about things and enjoying your company, do pay me no mind."

… Your lying on my lap, it's rather hard _not_ to mind. Though you don't say that, instead you remove the hand from her head to place it on the porch as well, your legs carefully stretching out before returning to their 'useful' position. The Battlecruiser lets out a series of coughs, and on instinct you move your hand to pat her side and back, the coughing fit passing quickly before she turns her head to smile at you.

You are aware of her little game, but it keeps her happy so you don't particularly mind either. Her sister isn't amused, but Kaga isn't particularly ever amused by anything that isn't murdering sirens.

Besides, there are shipgirls in your fleet with far more… questionable habits. So you will amuse her odd amusement. "What, pray tell, are you pondering?

"The fleet," Amagi answers wistfully, "they have turned out quite different than what I expected of them."

"Different good or different bad?"

Amagi raises up a hand slowly and clasps it within yours, then, with a quiet grunt she lifts herself up into a sitting position. Her fingers trace along the top of your hand a moment before she returns them to her lap. "Different," she finally answers. A small smile plays across her face, her bright red lips a sharp contrast to the white makeup she sports.

You smile back. "They certainly are a cast of characters, though I wish I could do more for them." While you are proud to say you have yet to lose a ship, miraculous as that may be. You always feel like you can do yet more. This war against the sirens is seemingly never-ending, and seeing these girls… ships, fight like this hurts at times. Necessary as it may be.

Amagi giggles from beside you, causing your gaze to turn from the backyard towards her. "Commander is the person who even made this Amagi pledge her loyalty to you, it isn't wrong to be more confident in yourself."

A light blush plays across her cheeks, the light pink fighting a losing battle with her white skin. "You do worry too much if I do say so myself."

You shrug your shoulders then glance out over the garden again. Off in the distance, you can hear the sound of crashing waves and the familiar thrum of aircraft engines starting up. The carriers… minus Amagi, are all out in training this morning. "My job in life is to worry and care about you all it seems, if I don't who will?"

To be honest, you aren't sure why you were picked, you were just a lieutenant… but Ayanami latched onto you and then well, everything else happened.

Amagi lets out a sigh then falls against your side, her ears tickle the underside of your chin as she lays against your shoulder. "If the Commander really cares about Amagi, then please go forth with all your might... your victory and smile, is the best medicine for me." Her hand reaches up and trails your chin a moment, her once small smile turning playful.

You tap her hand with yours. "Indeed, couldn't have Amagi getting sicker on me, Kaga would flay me alive."

Amagi giggles again, the hand falling off of your chin to latch around your arm, a sort of half-hug as she joins you in looking over the garden. "Possibly, though the girl is kinder than her persona would leave you to believe."

You arch a brow. "Oh? Would Kaga like you telling me her secrets?"

"What my little sister doesn't know won't hurt her, but no commander, you are wonderful. To even make use of a frail ship like myself, I am eternally grateful at this second chance you have granted me." Her voice trails off as she finishes, her eyes closing as she lets out a deep breath. When she opens them again there is a faint trace of moisture along the edges.

You reach up and pat her head, a soft hum escaping her throat as you do so. Amagi was always a difficult ship to understand, she hides her guilt well. But you've had time... your ring, little more than a golden band on your finger, glints in the evening light as you run your hand through her hair.

A faint clicking sound draws your eyes down to see her fingers lightly rapping against the porch, a golden band on her finger knocking quietly against the wood, a perfect copy of yours in nearly every way.

You still recall how shocked she was when you offered it to her, not that she didn't have feelings for you. That much was always obvious with how she clung to you, but instead, she seemed shocked that you would even _consider_ her. Of course, that was only temporary, soon after you discovered _another_ side to her.

"Commander?"

Your trail over to see Amagi staring at you, her eyes meeting yours as a rather heavy blush starts to fill her face.

"… Yes?"

She presses against your shoulder a bit harder than strictly necessary, her strength more than enough to make you fall to your side with a yelp. Your side hits the porch and you find yourself lying on your back a moment later.

A giggle escapes your secretary once more before you find her leaning over you. "The other ships will not be back for a while commander. Would you wish to see… how well I have been taking care of my body since we married?"

… Oh dear.

_So that's where Akagi gets it._

'Commander, my life is no longer shameful. Thank you.'


	4. Graf Zeppelin

"I… fail to see how that is possible."

The doctor lets out a sigh, the young man looking a fascinating mix of exhausted and out of his depth as he rubs at his eyes. "I've cross checked with the Eagle Union, they have no records of it but it should _theoretically_ be possible. You two have been… er... relations." He trails off, gesturing dismissively with his hand.

"Yes. We have." You answer bluntly, feeling decidedly uncomfortable at the moment. You mean, she's a _beautiful_ woman, cold to be sure, but she has a softer side to her that she only shows around very close friends that is frankly adorable… and dear **_GOD_** her swimsuit. But, only once, and then she had broken into the collection of schnapps.

On the beach. In that damned swimsuit.

… You regret nothing.

There are many things in life that can change a person. Joy and sadness, success and grief. Your fleet is made up of beings that have experienced all of these emotions, some keep their cards close to their chest, putting on a cold exterior to protect themselves from the world around them. Others scream out their anger and hate for the world at large to hear, yet in either case… such wounds can be healed.

Tirpitz learned to live, Graf learned what it meant to be alive, Deutschland learned to care more for others, Roon is… well, Roon is still Roon. But by far the most startling and extreme change is the ship you can say you have grown closest to. The door to your room opens with a faint creak, the sound the only thing daring to pierce the still evening air of the naval base.

A familiar mop of white hair grabs your attention immediately, she most assuredly heard you… but she is rather distracted reading to the much smaller ship currently resting in her lap.

Graf was always a… difficult girl. Cold and on the extreme end of nihilistic, you were rather worried when she first arrived at the base. But beyond that interior was a bitter and frankly _hurt_ woman, she was designed for one thing, then watched as her nation fell apart around her while powerless to do anything about it.

Still, you managed to break through that shell and help her the best you could. Still, it was rough going.

A soft coo gets your attention, a slender finger moving to trace the lines of the smaller ship's cheek. From Graf's throat comes a quiet hum, the wordless tune of Erika filling the small space as you close the door behind you.

Red eyes flit over to you, a small smile growing just a centimeter or so wider before she returns to caring for the child. Indeed, in turns out in Graf's case all the nihilism in the world can't do much when faced with a tiny destroyer that calls you 'mutter'.

It was… quite a shock to be sure, and it took a good week before you could get the carrier to speak to you. Or anyone else for that matter, but once she had finally decided to approach the world again you had done the honorable thing and proposed to her.

You haven't regretted a moment since. "She asleep?"

Graf nods, a soft snoring coming from the destroyer in her lap as if to answer. Parenthood has been an… experience, even more so since nobody thought such a thing with shipgirls was possible to begin with.

You step forward and offer your hands, and with a small smile graf gently unloads the sleeping ship into your arms. Walking carefully as to not jostle the child you gently lay her down on the bed, she lets out a little snore as you drop her onto the sheets before curling up, her Luftwaffe themed pajamas (made by Gneisenau surprisingly) bunching up in the process. You smile and run your hand through your hair before turning around to face Graf again.

"Everything alright?"

Her previous smile vanishes. "The horn of the black goat has been sounded."

… You've learned that means yes. "That's good to hear, I got some tickets for a night out down in town if you were interested, we haven't really had an opportunity to be together since well…" Your eyes trail over to the sleeping Erfurt.

A soft chuckle escapes the aircraft carrier. "So be it."

You smile then move past her towards the dresser. The crackling of the fire now the only sound beyond the distance sounds of the harbor. It's impressive how your room managed to simultaneously get larger _and_ smaller at the same time. While true it has had quite an expansion to it, it also now houses two extra people. Akashi was happy for the business either way, though if the _hints_ from Graf lately have been any indication you may need even more soon…

"I had never believed there is such a thing called 'fate'."

"Hmm?" you glance back to see Graf looking deeply into the roaring fireplace. Her expression is flat, though there is a hint of pain in those red eyes.

"You bestowed me with a most wonderful future... then, what even is the meaning for my hatred?" her eyes trail from the fire to you, her tone imploring you for an answer.

You slowly close the closet up again before leaning back against it, hands resting in your lap as you stare at the carrier. "Do you still hate what happened?"

She nods. "I loathe it, I loathe _all_ of it." She lets out a breath before the smile returns to her face, and she quietly turns around in the chair to stare at Erfurt. "But… I do not regret where it led me, I shall accompany you, but then you shall treat me to ice cream."

You nod seriously. "As my lady commands."

Graf laughs quietly, then without warning her hand shoots forth. Her gloved hand grabs you by the wrist and yanks you forward, with a _manly_ yelp you tumble off balance before landing on top of her 'flightdeck'.

Another soft coo sounds from the carrier, her hand moving to caress your head gently much like she was your child earlier. "You are pretty brave, as expected of the one I chose." Her smile is bright and happy, and her eyes are _molten_. "Let us kill god together."

… You've learned that means 'I love you.'


	5. Washington

The rhythmic sounds of grunts and scratches fill the air of the office. The sound increasing with intensity and tempo as it goes on. With every forceful movement, your desk shakes slightly, stacks of papers shifting dangerously from the speed of your movements. Then, all at once, it is too much and you release. "Did you come in here to simply stare at my mirror or was there another purpose to your visit?" You drop the pen on the desk, one hand moving up to rub at your skull as the battleship decides she feels like being a fashion model.

Washington turns around, her pointer and middle fingers spread in an effort to force a smile on her face. She's been making faces and grunting in frustration for the past half hour and after a while it just becomes unbearable.

"'ou 'ot a provlem?" the words are far less effective, considering how limited her mouth movements currently are.

"Multiple; paperwork is piling to the rafters, Arizona just had a complete mental breakdown that I had to pull Pennsylvania to fix, Akashi has started a bank, and you are playing with a mirror."

"Well fucking excuse me if I had nowhere else to go," the hand drops to her side, a scowl replacing the fake smile, " but Dakota's taken over the dorm to entertain destroyers. It's all she's been doing since you kicked her out of the office."

… Okay, fair, but you fail to see how that is your fault, the woman insisted on never getting more than a foot away from you for any reason since you rescued her from the abyss. This was all fine and dandy until you had to do a long session of paperwork with her standing over your shoulder, which got awkward and cramped fast. The woman has many gifts, not all of which leave much space for you to move.

"And you ran away from destroyers?" You sigh, slowly pushing yourself up from the desk and slowly making your way around it.

"Mhmgh!" The battleship blushes before turning her head away sharply, her arms crossing under her bust as she does so.

You stop a good two feet in front of her, the faint traces of a headache coming on. "I'm sorry, I don't speak pouting battleship. Do you speak English, sailor?

She lets out a deep breath, her cheeks puffing up a moment before she allows them to deflate as well, her eyes trail over to you then lock to the floor. "The destroyers said I'm scary."

… "Really. The destroyers I had to physically hold back from attacking Hiei? They said you were scary."

"I…" She lets out another breath before looking back up to you. "They said it's creepy that I don't smile."

You stare at her blankly, the look of pure worry on her face a stark contrast to the look of strong confidence she usually wears. On the one hand you are annoyed… on the other someone that has grown quite dear to you is obviously bothered by something and as her superior officer it is your duty to figure it out. "Your smile is fine, you just don't smile very often is all. Not everyone does, Wash. Besides, you've been smiling around me a lot more lately haven't you? You don't need to force it."

"...No need to force myself?" the look of worry quickly turns into a light and rather pretty smile. One she has been wearing more often than not lately. A soft chuckle escapes her, her eyes trailing over to the window. "I suppose even you can say some nice things occasionally."

"That smile is good."

Her face blanches. "I was… smiling?"

Sigh.

12345

Washington stands in her usual pose as she looks out over the waves from her 'bow'. Her arms under her bust, her coat dramatically flapping (you've noted she has rigged it to do so) in the wind with every pacific gust. A confident smile is on her face as you set sail, the thirty six thousand ton battleship unbothered by the high waves.

She's happiest here, when she is leading the fleet and can bring her guns to bear. She likes being in front, and has bragged about getting into a brawl with Kirishima. You have made a concerted effort ever since finding out about her history to keep the two ships from ever meeting, less they cause an international incident.

You stand a good dozen feet behind her, holding onto the railing for something resembling dear life as she barrels through the storm. Off to the right, you can see Fletcher being bounced around on the waves like a toy in a bathtub, beyond her steaming at her right flank is the Monaghan, and you swear you can hear the small destroyer screaming.

"My blood boils with excitement." A bark of laughter tears out of Washington, and echoes along the ship like crashing metal. "Come Admiral! Onward to the horizon!"

… You don't like this smile.

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"My smile has become more natural lately?"

You nod, adjusting yourself slightly so the hard steel you are leaning against becomes at least somewhat more comfortable.

The battleship blushes, her eyes darting to the side. "Ah… hmm," one glove hand raises to scratch at her face, her tongue twisting in her mouth as she tries to speak. "Well, I was… was thinking that I just have to find a new hobby is all."

"Oh?"

Her eyes trail back to you before they lock on the floor again. "Mhgmn."

… "What was that?"

1235

Washington again is standing in front of the mirror, though this time there is no forced expressions of obnoxiously loud grunts of frustration. Instead, she is idly playing with a lock of her hair, a small smile on her face. The same small and peaceful smile she has been wearing a lot lately.

You set the pen down on the desk gently, the horde of paperwork having slowed down since the wars 'intermission,' and is now a mere slow river, rather than a towering tsunami. "You in a good mood?"

Washington giggles, before turning partially around to look over at you. "My smile is good."

"It is, you've been improving." You slowly get up from behind the desk, several pops sounding from your legs in protest.

"It's your fault, you know." A soft blush pinks her cheeks, something else that has become more common lately.

"Oh?"

"When I see you I start smiling naturally, it is not something I've ever felt before…" She steps back from the mirror then fully turns around, one hand moving to rest and her hip while the other points at you.

"I do have that effect on people, kind and devilishly attractive as I am."

Washington chuckles, taking a step forward in the process. Her hand pokes you in the chest, causing you to stumble back slightly.

"Do not flatter yourself, you're just amusing is all… and there are some emotions I have felt before, too." Her smile gets larger and more dangerous. A glint of fire sparking behind her eyes. "I suddenly want to see your expression when you are the one being bullied, Commander."

… Help.


	6. Kaga

[Kaga]

*If Ayumu had a shipgirl.*

The familiar twang of a bowstring being released and the somewhat distant thunk of an arrow hitting its mark fills the air. It is a additive scene along with the others in the garden, the water gently running into the pond at the corner near the cherry tree. The deer-scarer hitting it's wooden base every few seconds, all in orchestra with the distant sounds of the dock.

It's a peaceful scene, and you would appreciate it more if it didn't look like Kaga was about to tear someone's head off. Now that isn't particularly uncommon in any regard, Kaga's expression tend to dance between 'contemplating murder' and 'actively commiting murder' on a moment by moment basis. The woman practises a rather extreme form of Darwinism and thinks exceptionally highly of herself, you've managed to tame it down some. But it took you months upon months before she was fully comfortable being commanded by an American officer, which is all the better, it took you months to get used to commanding a Japanese naval base.

You only got the position due to being one of the few Wisdom-Compatible officers left in the pacific after the first waves of the Siren War, the Sakura after many battles turned against the alien thread, but their own numbers were decimated as well.

Your happy ass just so happened to be on Guam and that's how you wound up in Kure of all godforsaken places. It would be prettier if it wasn't full of craters, it's a small miracle you have any place to stay at all… and you feel guilty about even that. On the brightside, this just may be about the only point in history the Chinese and Japanese fleets have worked together for any reason.

… You'll take your amusement where you can get it these days.

Still, back to the present. Your 'fleet' has mainly dispersed for mine clearing operations at the moment, leaving the capital ships for the most part stationed her so that they may undergo modernization and repair. The ships in general seem to be enjoying the vacation, but Kaga has gotten more than a little stir crazy and aggressive...er.

With a soft breath she draws another arrow and notches it against the string. The long metal bull pulls back, then. *Swish* *Thunk*. All the while keeping that enraged expression on her face.

"Bad day?"

The bow falters in her grip slightly and her head jerks over to look at you. Her eyes are wide and near manic before she narrows them, she studies you a moment before letting out a hiss through her teeth.

"You know precisely the cause of my anger commander."

You raise a hand to scratch at your bread contemplatively, doing your very best to look like an ancient Greek Hero you've admired since your days at Annapolis. You then take a sip of your whiskey, for said hero was Dionysus. You learned rather fast the greatest cure for shipgirl shenanigans was liquor, and given you are one of the few people capable of controlling the Wisdom-system you abuse the hell out of your authority to get more of it whenever possible.

You stare at the glass a moment, hoping the amber liquid will divulge its secrets to you. Alas, it does not, so you are left to deal with this problem on your own. "Well you probably don't have fleas, Akagi is doing well enough, and 5th Carrier Division still is no threat to your lofty reachs."

You hear a growl and don't bother to look up at the carrier. "So I'm going to assume you are quite annoyed at being deployed alongside Enterprise."

You can hear the sound of metal screeching, and a glance up shows her squeezing the bow so hard the frame is bending ever so slightly. An impressive feat considering it is made out of belt-armor grade steel. Her voice when she speaks is only a hair above a hiss. "I will not allow the 1st Carrier Division to be looked down upon."

You slowly push yourself up from your sitting position on the porch, your knees protesting the motion. It's quite impressive how you could gain old-man-knees at forty years old but the Navy is nothing if not inventive. You let out a deliberate say, then look at the aircraft carrier with a grin. "If you speak of Enterprise… no I doubt she looks down upon anybody. If you mean mean me? Then yes, I tend to look down on people so pouty and needlessly aggressive even Mutsuki avoids them."

"You dare?"

You shake your head. "No that's the SAS, the US Navy is Semper Fortis."

She draws up… then lets out a deep breath. Her expression goes flat, controlled, with no sign of the previous anger visible upon it. "You annoy me greatly. Commander."

You offer her the glass and she accepts it without comment. "You annoy me so it balanced out rather fairly. Carrier."

She grins then downs the glass easily, not bothering to sip the fine whiskey. When she lowers it again a wicked smile is on her face, the same one she is so fond of taking to battle. "Fairness and justice belong to the strong, while the weak can only weep in a corner."

"Does that make me strong or weak?" you pluck the glass out of her hands and turn back around to the porch. You carefully step up and onto it, grabbing the bottle in the process. The building is… Japanese. That is the best description you can think for it, while everything else on the base is concrete and for the most part bombproof, your quarters are made out of wood and paper. You have yet to figure out why.

"If you lose one day, that means you're too weak, since it's normal for the weak to be eliminated." She responds, and you can hear her stepping onto the porch as well as you open the door.

"And seeing how I haven't lost you see me as strong?" The Japanese exterior matches the Japanese interior, though thankfully you were able to swing a western bed. Not that you get much chances for rest in any regard.

She deposits her shoes by the door and you do the same before stepping inside together. "Perhaps, but if the time comes when you grow weak… You're mine, I will avenge you."

A lovely sentiment to be sure, the carrier brushes past you to take a seat at the table. She goes through the motions of preparing some drinks, much as she always does whenever she is at your home. You were surprised at first when she followed you back here`a few months back, but apparently the term 'secretary' to Kaga means 'bodyguard'.

"I would be carefully declaring 'ownership' of me." You say, allowing an easy smile to come onto your face as you make your way over to your desk. "Akagi certainly wouldn't be amused."

A look of frustration crosses over the carriers face a moment before she controls herself again. Still smiling, you make your way the rest of the way around your desk and sit yourself behind it. You don't have any paperwork to do, thankfully, but this is still the comfiest seat in the building. "So why don't we start with what has got you so bothered *besides* Enterprise being stationed within a five hundred mile radius? Find her irresistibly attractive?"

The glare she gives you is both terrifying and worth it.

12345

A calm breeze blows over the docks, carrying with it the smell of salt and steel. The whole dock is abuzz with activity, shouting orders, booming machines, it is the sound of war. A sound no longer unfamiliar to you nor near any human being left alive on this planet. Yet despite it's familiarity it still has an alien otherness to it all, the scale of it boggles the mind. Dozens upon dozens of ships are spread about the water, practicing and loading up to sally for the largest operation Azur Lane has put together since the reunification.

Kaga stands at the edge of the docks, the breeze barely moving the long coat around her shoulders. Her expression is neutral, and she doesn't look over your way as you move to stand besides her. You let out a whistle of appreciation of all the work being done. Soon… it will all come to a head, for better or worse.

You look over at your secretary, allowing an easy smile on your face. "Excited?"

Her eyes close a moment and she draws in a deep breath, her blue eyes revealing themselves again a moment later when she speaks. "Ready."

You nod, carefully raising an arm to wrap around her shoulders. The aircraft carrier doesn't let out a sound as you pull her closer, the tips of her ears tickling your cheek as you do so. "You are the flagship for this operation, took some arguing on my part but your combat record speaks for itself."

She nods into your shoulder, then raises a hand to place it on your shoulder. "I shall not disappoint you, my commander."

You smile and release your grip. "You never ha-"

You buckle as your attempt to step back is stopped by the rather rough grip she now has on your uniform. You blink, staring down at the red nails then back to her face.

"Commander I…" She bites her lip then shakes her head. "I feel… I don't know why I'm feeling perplexed, is this a beastly instinct?"

"Ar-"

She raises her other hand to place a finger on your lip, silencing you rather effectively. "Silence for once." She looks up into your eyes, a strange and rather unfamiliar to you emotion playing on her face. "I have a lot of things to say, but the moment I see your face I forget about them."

She blinks, then starts to lean forward ever so slightly, her eyes closing as she inches closer…

Then stops. Her eyes opening again when she was no more than an inch away from you. "Apologies commander, I should best prepare for the mission." You don't miss the blush dusting her cheeks, nor the sudden rapid pace of her diction.

She steps back, and in that moment you do two things. The first is you grab her by the wrist, the second is you grab a small velvet box from your front pocket and flip it open, displaying the ring inside to the ship.

Her eyes widen dramatically, far more than you've ever seen on the proud carrier. The blush that was on her face previously returns with an absolute vengeance, her eyes darting from the ring to your face repeatedly. She grins wildly, the blush not diminishing in the slightest but a hint of confidence returning to her tone when she speaks.

"This is for me?"

You nod, and watch as her fingers move to trace over the ring. "The strong attract each other, this must be fate. Then I'll follow fate and my instincts." She laughs lightly and pushes the lid closed. "Commander, when I return from this battle, then I shall give you my answer… until then."

She surges forward, and you have to brace yourself not to be knocked off the dock when she collides with your chest. Any such worries fade away however as your mind is overtaken by the taste of cherry, much to the amusement of the ships around you.

"Get ah room ya'll!"

… Yes thank you Texas.

12345

The sound of children laughing can be heard in the background, a gentle scene set in an Idyllic countryside. Off the beaten path on the outskirts of Kure you can find a home, not a large one, not ostentatious despite the status of the occupants within. If you were to enter you will smell fresh tea and old wood, and see a cozy, lived in abode with the fireplace burning nearly year round. Above the fireplace you can see an old bow. Below it hangs a picture, a young with with white hair in a wedding dressed, and beside her a naval officer on their wedding day.

I refuse to write a sad ending.


	7. Tirpitz

The cool wind of the Baltic stings your face, the salt adding to the sting upon your uncovered face. With a muffled curse you pull up the scarf even higher on your neck then shuffle over to the large door and swing it open.

The contrast between temperatures is both immediately and _wholly_ welcome. A roaring fire crackles against the wall, faint steam rising from the iron cooking pot above it. The interior is so warm and welcome that you almost forget one… key fact.

… You didn't light the fire before you left the house, you _never_ leave the fire unattended. So unless a Nisse has decided it to make itself at home you have a rather uninvited guest. "Welcome whomever has decided to visit, unless you are a polar bear. Then I would appreciate at least one roar so I might have a chance to run away screaming."

You hear a faint shuffling from your 'kitchen' and look over to see…

Just about the most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. She's dressed in some form of uniform, though of what kind or nation you couldn't rightly identify. A cap sits on her head that looks rather familiar to the cap you've seen the navy men wear down in the harbor. But the silvery hair underneath it is decidedly anything but natural.

She's currently standing before your stove, an open can of torskerogn in her hands. The top is off and she currently is… or was, eating out of it with a fork. Though currently she is staring at you with wide eyes that speak of panic.

You raise your hands in mock surrender and placation. "You get lost in the cold? I have spare food if you need it."

Further up north it's tradition to keep the doors unlocked in case of fucking polar bears. Here… well, you are basically nowhere so if someone is desperate enough to break in to eat they _probably_ need the food.

That, and she's gorgeous.

She doesn't make a move, the fork hanging loosely in her grip as she watches you. She doesn't seem… well, feral is the wrong word. She doesn't seem dangerous or like she means you harm, nor does she seem like she is a criminal. She more gives you the air of a child caught doing something she shouldn't have.

You look back towards the door then slowly close it, not willing or wanting to allow the cold in. You do your best to do so slowly, just in case she thought rather poorly of the situation. You then turn back around, hands raising again before you point to yourself. "Well, introductions. I'm Anfeldt, yourself?"

She looks at your hands a moment, then at the canned fish. She then painstakingly trails her eyes over to your face, she stares into your eyes for what feels like a good hour or two, but is in reality probably twenty seconds before she answers. "Tirpitz."

Like… the ship?

You stare back at her for several moments before shrugging your shoulders. "Well, nice to meet you Tirpitz… you need a hand with anything or are you just hungry?"

Her eyes dart down to the food and she 'surreptitiously' moves it closer to her chest.

"Well, try to warm up. If you need to contact anybody I have a phone next to the fire… place." Your words trail off as you stare at the small table sitting just besides it. The old phone is still there where you left it, but just besides it is a small blue cube that glows with a light that is nothing short of enchanting. It pulses erratically like a heart out of rhythm, you aren't particularly noted for your skills in decoration but you certainly didn't leave something like… that laying around.

There is also the fact it is making the table itself glow faintly blue that has you worried.

"Is that… yours?"

Any answer on her part is quickly drowned out by your front door exploding as several very large and angry men burst in.

123456

A cool shiver runs over you as she places her hand on your shoulder. Noticing your shiver she removes it almost immediately, the gloves hand pulling back to rest under her breast as she looks away towards the pier. "My apologies commander, my hand… is it cold?"

"Like a witches tit but I'm used to it." It's something you've gotten used to about Tirpitz. She is _always_ cold. Whether that is due to her history or her construction you couldn't rightly say. You are a proud son of Norway and consider yourself rather resistant to the cold but her touch is that of steel… a rather unpleasant experience. But it's something you've had to grow used to, seeing as how she won't stop clinging to you and the fact you've somehow managed to find yourself part of the Kriegsmar-, Deutsche Mari-, _Ironblood_.

You are currently dressed in one of their uniforms, though you can proudly say you still know precisely _nothing_ about the navy. You were a hunter, not a damn sailor. Yet both the cube _and_ the ship reacted to you so you have been assigned as her 'keeper' so to speak. Though Ironblood seems more than happy to just keep her docked at present in case the Siren's try anything.

Admiral Baumann at least has been friendly, and shockingly understanding of your predicament all things considered. That still doesn't change the find that you've somehow in the span of six months have gone from living in a cabin at the Jonsvatnet to living in officer's housing on a naval base in Northern Deutschland.

Tirpitz makes a noise of displeasure and looks off towards the water. Scharnhorst and Gneisenau are both going through exercises, or rather they are currently beating the shit out of each other. With those two it is honestly hard to tell. "At the end… you're just a useless Commander who cannot motivate me."

You shrug your shoulders, the uniform riding up slightly in the process. "I managed to get ahold of some roe if you want it. Though if I can't motivate you there really isn't a point."

Her head whips back so sharply it's a wonder she doesn't break her neck. "Sunnmore?"

You have to fight to keep from making a face as you simply reply. "No."

Her eyes search your face a moment before they trail down again. "I'm already used to the cold and loneliness of the north, at this point it's natural for me to have no expectations…"

"Sunnmore is that canned crap I kept back in the cabin, I managed to get ahold on some actually fresh Roe. Being an officer has its perks after all."

A chill runs up your side as her hand shoots out to grab at your sleeve. "Commander, it is vital we eat immediately. Lest our spoils be taken."

… For a girl who enjoys moping as much as she does she can be surprisingly vigorous when she wants to be. To the point you don't have the heart t tell her absolutely no other ship in the harbor is willing to eat roe.

123456

"Only when one has nothing left, can one truly become brave. But is this kind of bravery worth bragging about?"  
You look up from your reading to gaze at the battleship. She's been staring out the window ever since dinner, though you hadn't really paid much kind considering her favorite activity is just… staring pensively at things. "What do you mean?"

"Scharnhorst, she fights as a berserker in memory of her crew." She looks away from the window towards you, her icy eyes even paler than normal. "Yet… she died in battle. I was killed from the air and was unable to protect my crew."

… This is the first time Tirpitz has actually spoken about her 'death'. You knew her history, Baumann made sure of that. But she has never actually brought it up herself.

"I was a fleet-in-being… but I was only one ship, left to languish in the cold fjords never to serve my purpose."

You slowly close the book and push yourself up from your seat. The warmth of the fireplace hitting your back as you turn to fully face the battleship.

"I think the worst feeling in the world, is to not know whether you should wait some more or give up. I wished to fight Commander, and starting tomorrow I shall be given a chance." Her head tilts slightly, her silver hair free from the cap shining in the orange light of the fireplace. "Were you worth waiting for Commander?"

You take a step forward. "I'm afraid I… don't quite understand."

Her eyes look to the floor as if afraid to meet your gaze, she then shakes her head after a moment of pause. Her eyes looking back up to stare into yours _defiantly_. "Tomorrow I am to sortie for the first time in eighty seven years. I will _not_ fail again commander."

"You are being sent into battle?" the question makes you feel dumb just for asking it, but nobody has actually told you anything regarding plans.

Tirpitz nods, stepping forward herself until the distance between the two of you is barely more than a foot. "I am to sail with the Hochseeflotte, you will be along as my commander…"

You swallow a lump in your throat that you only just now realized was there. "I'll do the best I can for you, though I'm afraid I'm only barely a better cook than a I am a seaman."

At that the corners of her lips turn up. "Thank you very much commander, The Queen in the North, she is lonely no more."

You nod and take a step back to allow her some space, only for a brush of cold to tickle your body. Your eyes glance down to see her hand gently holding onto the front of your sweater, and you look back up to see a faint pink play across her snow-white features. "I had… forgotten about the pleasure of interacting with others, and the beating of my hear when someone is there with you… but I have remembered it all."

"... Tirpitz?"

She pulls forward, 160k of horsepower more than enough to send you stumbling into the battleship. Though she both catches and rights you easily. She has hold of both of your arms, her face dangerously close to yours as she searches your eyes. Before you can react she then leans forward… and despite the cold pressed against your chest.

…

Her lips are warm..

"This is… the taste of victory."

12346


	8. Atago

When you were assigned the position of acting commander of the Japanese Research Division. (Long before it was to be called the Sakura Empire). You didn't really know quite what you were in for. The actual mechanics of summoning were kept very quiet, the whole matter was kept on a script need to know basis and as far as the military was concerned that unless you had at least two silver chrysanthemum's on your shoulder you didn't need to know.

But you just so happened to be the unlucky bastard that 'awakened' Fubuki, and ever since then you've been shuttled from place to place in an attempt to get the various nation states programs going. Not much actually needs to be done on your front these days, while your expertise has been valued the other nations have managed to kickstart their own programs in a defense against the Siren threat.

"Commander, it's not good to gawk at me like that you know?"

You blink and refocus your eyes to realize you had been staring at Atago, the secretary ship having been at her usual place besides your desk ready to accept your orders at a moments notice.

You avert your gaze quickly, the heavy cruiser letting out a faint noise of disappointment as you do so. You were there for Atago's awakening, hell per her you were the very [i]cause[/i] of her awakening, and ever since then she's been following you around loyally… whether you've wanted her to or not.

The fact that you work in research now doesn't seem to bother her in the slightest… which causes no small amount of headaches to the upper echelons of staff that would much rather have her in a combat role at the moment. Admittedly you'll be moved over there soon enough, but it isn't soon enough for Admiral Nakamura.

There have been… attempts to separate Atago from you, but she has made her thoughts on the matter quite clear.

"Apologies Atago, just… thinking."

The click of her heels fills the air as Atago walks around the desk to look at you with a small pout on her face. "You are not thinking, you are worrying admiral."

You lean back into your seat, the plush cushions feeling more like concrete slabs at this point. "I'm only a Commander 2nd class, and for the record, no I am not. I am merely thinking about how I got to this point." Atago's pout slowly morphs into a smile and she slides her way onto the desk, her legs hanging over the front edge as she looks down at you. "Oh?"

You smile back despite yourself. "Got another reprimand for not sending you to the combat fleets, not that I could if I wanted to."

Atago blinks and places a hand to her chest. "I'm the second ship of the Takao-class heavy cruiser, flagship of the 2nd division, Atago. Many sisters have seen combat under my lead. No matter the mission, just leave everything to big sister here. That is what I said upon first meeting you correct?"

"Right before you hugged me yes."

Atago smiles impishly. "And my sisters are doing well, my time in combat shall once again soon come. But for now I am your secretary, and I shall endeavor to be your secretary to the best of my ability." She then drags her legs fully up onto the desk, papers scatter as she crawls forward on hands and knees like a cat until her face is only a foot away from yours. "Unless of course… you wish for big sister to be more than a secretary?"

... Ever since Atago found the ring she's been bugging you for it. It's experimental equipment and is not to be handed out lightly, one has been sent to the Royal Navy but as far as you are aware they haven't used theirs either. On the one hand you treasure her company dearly and highly value her skills as a secretary, on the other...

"My whole body... feels hot... Admiral, could you keep this Atago company for a bit?"

No, no that would be a chewing out to the level only suicide could possibly be an escape from. "I do believe that would be a poor decision."

Atago frowns then reaches up slowly to start undoing the buttons on her uniform. "It's fine to feel me all you want you know? Though if you do... there is no telling what may happen next Admiral."

... Nope.

You shove your hand forward and pull open the drawer to your right, in a rush of speed so great it would have made your samurai ancestors proud you slam the small box onto the desk. The lip popping open as you do so.

You could hear a pin drop as Atago darts her eyes down to look at the ring, both hands still raised in a position to undo the next button and reveal... more than a little flesh. You are most definitely going to get yelled at for this, but it is that or deal with a very frustrated heavy cruiser, and unlike your bosses you actually enjoy Atago's company.

The cruiser in question slowly reaches her hand down to trace the edge of the ring, an almost giddy smile on her face as she does so. "Looks like I've been caught by the commander, or should I say..." With the sound of rustling fabric the last button comes off to reveal black lace, black lace that is currently fighting a losing battle. With the sound of creaking wood Atago leans the rest of the way forward until her face is only an inch from your own. "The commander has been caught by me?" A giggle sounds from the cruiser before she closes the rest of the distance. "Hehe... you cannot escape anymore~"

The chew-out you received was worthy of going down in naval history.

It was also totally worth it.


	9. Warspite

The gentle rays of the sunrise fall into the clearing in clear mockery of the previous night, the warm yellow beams of light warm and pleasant as it quickly dries the morning dew. It is only partially filtered by the greenery of the garden, the various bushes and short trees doing little other than break up the light and casting shades of orange intermixed with the yellow.

It's a peaceful morning, and would stay that way if not for the sounds of a swinging blade and the grunt of exertion. You look up from your morning paper and tea to see Warspite going through a series of slashes and thrusts before returning the blade to a resting position by her side. She holds it there for several seconds, her chest rising and falling from the effort before she starts the movements again.

You are content to watch her for several minutes, the woman follows you everywhere and you are well used to her proclivities. Still, despite her short stature it is always impressive to see her swing around that massive blade. More than one Able-Rate has thrown out their back from trying to lift the thing, they keep trying despite your repeated requests to Warspite to discontinue the practice, it seems she enjoys the sport… and the enlisted are as always eager to outdo each other in terms of idiocy.

"How goes the battle against the invisible enemy this morning?"

The sword spins through the air so fast it sings before she sheathes it and faces you, only a light bead of sweat on her face reveals any exertion on her part. "Belli dura despicio, I Despise the Hard Knocks of War."

You nod then gesture to the tea and breakfast set out in front of you. "Ante Cibum."

Warspite looks at the food, then at you with a confused expression on her face. "Sir?"

"It means 'before meals', usually applies to medicine but you see fit to fight the air before every breakfast. If you have had quite enough would you like to join me? It is rude to eat before a lady has readied herself."

Warspite to her credit looks neither embarrassed or bothered as she makes her way over to the table. Though you've hardly ever gotten such a reaction from her beyond the few times you've deigned to pet her head… something you've noted she has spoken vehemently against every time, yet whenever you approach her side she tilts her head ever just so as if in invitation.

You smile as she pulls the metal chair back and takes a spot across from you. One hand moving forward to grab a teapot while the other moves to grab a plate of toast.

"So what, Grand Lady, is on the schedule for today?"

Warspite takes a moment to get her plates set up before her violet eyes meet yours. "I am to guide Nelson and Rodney through a series of maneuvers before partaking in the afternoon tea with Queen Elizabeth." Ah yes… the queen, however could you forget. Were that she not such a devastating force in battle you would say something about her leading your fleet around, but alas, things cannot always be so simple in the King's Navy.

"Well best of luck of course, do remember we have that chap from the States coming over this morning along with Enterprise, it's ostensibly a diplomatic affair but I could see about a wargame at some point if you are interested."

Warspite grins, a familiar fire lighting behind her eyes as she finishes buttering her toast. "A wargame against the strongest in the world?"

You shrug your shoulders. "So she calls herself, though I have actually been given a secret weapon that should make your far above even her if used properly."

The toast that was approaching her mouth halts so rapidly it nearly falls into her lap. The battleship freezing so thoroughly you would think time stopped for her if it weren't for the odd twitching of those two tufts of hair atop her head.

She ever so gently sets the toast back down onto the plate and shifts herself awkwardly upon her seat. "Sir?"

You reach into your pocket with a smile and retrieve a small velvet box and sit it upon the table. Oh, there were some… arguments as to who amongst the Royal Navy should have the second ring, but seniority reaps rewards. That, and you tend to speak very persuasively when you want to be.

Her eyes lock onto the box, her gaze squinting. "Is this a new weapon?"

You have to stop yourself from sighing as you slowly raise yourself from your seat, grabbing the box in the process. Warspite immediately stands up herself, decades of decorum causing her to rise when a superior officer does.

You walk around the table, the battleship watching you closely as you approach, then… you…

Reach up and pat her on the head.

Warpite immediately blushes, a pout coming across her face as a hand moves to clasp over yours. "I'm… er… not that sort command-" Her words are cut off as you continue, the blushing and fidgeting battleship at a loss for words for a few moments until you cease your ministrations.

You then present the box again, and with a flick of your finger it opens revealing the ring inside.

Her eyes widen dramatically as she figures out what you are offering. "Co-com-commander!?" Huh, you didn't think any ship in your fleet could get that red besides Cygnet or Amazon, fascinating.

Warspite backs up, her hands waving in front of her emphatically. "Commander, I am not elegant like the other ships, I am not like Hood or… or Queen Elizabeth, please!"

"Are you really going to make me get down on one knee?" There's no response from her, and so with a sigh you gently get down onto one knee. The metal plating in your right leg letting you know precisely what it thinks of that idea.

Warspite looks a fascinating mix of mortified and embarrassed, thankfully not disgusted however. If she was truly against the idea you aren't sure what you were going to do.

The battleship raises a hand to her chest and stares at the ring. When she speaks it is uncharacteristically quiet. "How do I put this, I'm considered to be one of the older girls, yet my body is like this. It might be unbecoming of one my age to compete with the younger girls, but I wanted to at least be attractive to you… I do not know what to do commander."

You smile despite the current stabbing pain running up and down your leg. "Have I ever cared that much? I value your experience and charm, not physical form. If I did I have no less than an entire legion of maids that would be more than eager to be my secretary in your place… unless you want that to happen?"

A familiar fire lights behind her eyes at the 'threat', and she takes a confident step forward. "Nonsense! Queen Elizabeth-class battleship - Warspite, Hull Number 03!" She swings her arm in a cutting motion and takes another step forward, the other hand reaches forward to grasp the box. "I am Warspite, the one who spites war. Whosoever tries to take the Commander away from me will first have to face my cannons."

The fierce look in her eyes dies as soon as her fingers touch the ring, a bashful look finding its way onto her face as her digits trace the outline before she gently pulls it out of the box. She stares at it, twisting and turning it in the light as a small smile starts to form. "We shall have to gather the officers for the wedding."

"Indeed, but first I do believe I'll need a hand up."


	10. Cleveland

Your shoes clap against the hard surface of the track. The rhythmic click-clack of your shoes setting a beat with the partner besides you. The sound of your deep breaths are far louder than the faint whisper that is the respiration of the girl beside you. The sunset's rays glimmer over the water's surface to paint a glittering and shimmering picture across the red running track as you make your way around it again and again.

It's become a daily ritual between Cleveland and yourself, you both spend all day cooped up in that office. You because you have an entire base to manage, how precisely you ended up working at under CINCPAC is anyone's guess. But all you know is you've traded your big metal ship for a big mahogany desk.

It wears at the soul, and both you and your secretary (though she is loathe to admit it herself) want nothing more than to be at sea again. But there is a job to be done, so to that effort you find yourself exercising every evening just to feel alive again to some capacity.

"Wanna exercise for a bit?"

Your eyes dart over to the Light Cruiser who is smiling at you cheekily, her blond hair whips behind her as she runs, though it is the only part of her that seems to be under any form of strain at present. There is the lightest bead of sweet on her forehead and little else to show this jog has been anything more than a Sunday walk through the park.

"I thought… that was what… we were doing already?" you ask between breaths. Feeling as close to death as you've been since OCS.

The LC grins ever wider, and with a burst of speed she zips past you on the track. You watch as she curves around the bend then starts sprinting down the other side, her arms pumping at her sides as she leaves you in her 'wake'.

You slow down to a stop, staring at her as she makes her way around. She makes good time, easily outpacing any sprint a normal human could pull off, and in the span of about ten seconds she is slowing down to jog in place in front of you. "Having fun?" You ask.

"Yep!" she chirps back.

… Fucking sadist cruiser you swear to god.

Cleveland grins victoriously, looking as Sims as smug… as smug as Sims, your brain is tired. "What's the matter, commander? Something troubling you?"

Yeah that something weighs twelve-k tons and is blonde. Fuck it, it won't be time for your PT test for another month and a half, so until then you are happy not pretending to be a jarhead. With a groan you fall on your back, the artificial surface of the running track warmed by the summer sun. It's hot and more than a little uncomfortable, but at this point you would take a bed of nails.

Perhaps a bit overdramatic, but you are an officer, it is in the job description for good and ill.

The sun is blocked by a figure standing above you, Cleveland's grin is no longer cheeky. Or present at all really. "You okay?"

"Well I can see the light, and I'm fairly sure I see Spruance calling for me." You make a show of raising your right arm, your hand reaching to take another hand that isn't quite there. "He's so handsome and has so many medals on his chest. I think you'd like him."

Cleveland lets out a laugh and grabs your hand, yanking you up with all the ease and grace of a drunken helicopter picking up a stranded seagull.

… There was a metaphor in there somewhere, but you let it be forgotten as Cleveland speaks again. "Sorry, ain't trying to make myself look stronger than I am or anything like that. Just…" Her hands move behind her head as she suddenly looks rather awkwardly towards the sunset. "My boilers are at full blast ya know? I wasn't meant to be running track, I'm supposed to be thirty some odd knots on the open water."

"And you enjoy torturing me for your own petty amusement." You finish for her, getting the cruiser to stick her tongue out at you. It does surprise you that Cleveland of all people is telling you about a personal problem, she usually tries to keep all of that locked up to herself. "But yes I empathize, why don't we take a cruise or something this weekend? On you that is, I have a leave block and I seriously doubt anyone will want to stop Lucky-55 from doing whatever she wants."

The smile you get for that is a good reward, the blush is just a bonus.

—-

You hold onto the Flag Bridge's railing with enough force that you are surprised you haven't bent the metal. Cleveland has apparently received some upgrades, and what would normally be a speedy if calm thirty-two knots has been increased to a strong fifty-five. Which if you were in your car would be a respectable speed on most larger roads without going over the speed limit.

That idea goes right out of the window when you are bouncing through the waves next to Majuro like a particularly stubborn lovebug holding onto a speeding Camaro. Cleveland is, of course, having the time of her life, you can tell from both the colossal sound of her foghorn blaring and the general whoops of delight coming over the ship's intercom.

"Cleveland if you try to surf that wave I swear to chr-"

"I'M SURFING IT!"

"Hailmaryfullofgracethelordiswiththeeeeeeeeeeeee!

—-

You lean back against the tree with a groan, your feet happy to be back on land for the first time in possibly a decade. A hulking mass of steel and freedom is off in the waters in front of you, her name is the USS Cleveland.

There is also a Cleveland next to you currently making short work of a coconut, and she is… rather more relaxed now than she has been in several days. With the sound of cracking fiber, she twists the shell hard enough to twist it in two pieces, letting out a pleased chuckle as she hands half of it to you. "I needed that."

You stare down into the coconut, wondering if you will it hard enough using the power of your commission the inside will turn into gin. Alas, you are not flag so you have no such luck. "I can tell, you sure this island is uninhabited?"

Cleveland nods her head. "Nothing on any records of people living here, if there are any bloodthirsty native cannibals I can deal with them though."

You give her a sideways glance before taking a bite out of the coconut. You chew it a few times before swallowing it, allowing yourself to relax as you watch the sunset over the ocean waves. "Please do, on my list of ways to die I place 'overactive cruiser' over 'cannibal holocaust' any day thank you."

Cleveland chuckles and bats you in the arm before setting down beside you.

"To us?" Cleveland holds up her half of the coconut in some fruity approximation of a toast.

"To us." Your coconut meets hers, and the cruiser lets out a breath before allowing her head to rest on your shoulder.

"Love you."

Your non-coconut filled hand reaches over to pat her on the leg. "Love you too."


	11. San Diego

Nobody ever talks about precisely how… odd the summoning of a new shipgirl can be. We keep it all secret from the press and by extension the public of course, but even those who know of the process firsthand rarely if ever speak of it. There is something… personal and majestic about the occasion. The steady drum beating in the background as a cube is laid out over the water. Despite what the rumors online may tell you there is no chants, no hymns, just the drums of war and the steady call of action stations.

A whistle sounds through the air, a smartly dressed lieutenant in his service dress khaki straight from the forties (the shipgirls seem to respond negatively to anything else) blowing as hard as he could.

Then of course, it happens.

The cube 'dissolves' into particles of light and data, a shimmering form appearing in the water. It's too indistinct to make out at first, it always is. The woman starts to form moments late-

"Hi! I'm San Diego!"

Oh god what… is she wearing.

San Diego is an… interesting woman. That's quite possibly the most sedate way you could possibly describe her, she stylizes herself as an idol, one of those frou-frou pop acts from japan that the lower enlisted get excited about anytime you used to enter the waters where the 7th fleet dwelled.

Of course, now you are _in_ seventh fleet. But that just means their focus has moved on from human girls in skimpy outfits singing about boys, to Japanese shipgirls in skimpy outfits singing about boys.

Frankly you thought it was ridiculous when Saratoga and Lexington started doing it, but at least they could _sing_.

It's a dichotomy you choose not to think about, but it does serve as a useful distraction as you attempt to drown out San Diego's singing. The girl has taken upon herself to put on regular concerts for the men… whether they like it or not. Her singing voice is for lack of a better word, atrocious, and beyond that she can't stop from falling all over the place and wrapping the cable around herself.

So by all reports a normal showing, though the crew is actually rather into it due to the alcohol being served.

She's a goof, a clown, the crew is laughing more at her failures than anything else.

… And it is all a lie.

You step inside the room, a little plaque hanging on a nail marking it as San Diego's quarters. It's not a room you've been in personally, you hardly get the chance to leave your own office half the time, let alone visit another's quarters. It's…

Simple, not as bare as Enterprise's billing the last time you happened by there, but definitely simpler than most. Shelves line the walls, after-action reports, history texts, ranging guides and thick heavy weapon's manuals.

A bed lies at the far corner of the room, a basic military cot with nothing out of the ordinary beyond pink sheets. The windows it is resting near are covered in papers, range estimates, angle of attack and identification charts, there are specks here and there where moonlight is allowed to shine through but it is scant and does little to combat the illumination offered by San Diego's desk lamp.

… Speaking of which, the ship in question is currently deep into a book, one hand holding up her head while the other is making notes off to the side. She doesn't notice you at first, it takes the sound of the door closing behind you to get her head to perk up and turn towards your direction.

She blinks once, twice. "Commander?"

You smile and remove your cap. "Evenin' Sandy, I didn't take you for much of a reader."

In an impressive display of multitasking, the shipgirl manages to stand up, salute, _and_ knock all of the books off of her desk with a swipe of her hand. You'd clap, but the noise of some many tomes hitting the ground is rather painful to listen to.

Sandy, however, grins wide. "Studying for the next concert!"

Your eyes drift from her smiling face towards the books littering the floor. "Incorporating the finer points of naval gunnery into the next chorus?"

Sandy pauses, looking down towards the books before cocking her foot. One hand curls into a fist to bop herself upside the head while she sticks out her tongue. "Whoopsie! Sandy grabbed the wrong books~" She punctuates her statement with a giggle, bending down to start collecting them.

You fight the sigh that threatens to come out with every fiber of your being. "Sailor, attention."

San Diego _technically_ outranks you, but the shipgirls natural inclination to follow their commander is strong. The girl snaps to attention, her figure going perfectly straight as her arms lay flat along her sides. "Captain!"

"Face me."

San Diego turns nervously around, her posture a picture perfect image of attention that is only marred by the fact her heel is digging rather nervously into the fake-wood flooring. Her eyes are looking off to the side, everytime they almost meet yours they dart away.

"Before I was posted to this billet I was a destroyer man, which meant that I was trapped on a small vessel with several hundred over men and women with their own issues and malfunctions."

San Diego's eyes slowly turn to look into my own.

"I am well versed in playing armchair psychologist, enough to know when someone is faking their personality." You speak softly as you finish, not wanting to sound accusatory or angry.

"Sir?" Sandy utters, an unasked question in her voice.

"Why precisely are you playing the fool?"

Sandy shakes her head vehemently from side to side. "Sandy is Sand-"

"Please?" you cut her off with your statement, the cruiser's mouth clicking shut.

San Diego looks towards the floor, her hands moving behind her back as her foot threatens to dig a hole into the floor at the pace it is going. "Sand- I… could still hear people commander, I was scrapped but I was still there as a spirit. Everyone was so sad, the sirens had destroyed so much. I'm not a symbol of hope like Enterprise is, but I wanted to make people smile."

"A ship does not earn eighteen battle stars by goofing around San Diego. I don't want people to think you are an idiot." Your voice is soft now, as soft as you can manage.

San Diego smiles, slightly. "I want to make people smile commander, and when this war is over I want to go back to my peace."

This time you let the sigh escape your lips, your hand moves before the cruiser can react to grab her on the shoulder. You pull her into a one-armed hug, your hand moving slightly to run through her hair as her face rests against your shoulder. "You do more than enough fifty-three."

You gently scratch at her scalp, a smile coming to your face as you feel dampness start to form on your shoulder.

The last you had ever heard of the _Warship _San Diego was that she had found a nice boy out in Boston and had gotten married. A rather monumental event considering it was a civvie that she had chosen to get married too… but after what she had to deal with in the war you are glad she got to experience her own peace.

The goofball, the hero, you had met both versions of the woman, and you consider it an honor to have served with her until the end.

The sound of scampering feet gets your attention and you look up from your paper, an excited greets yours. Your daughter holding an envelope.

"Dad dad dad!"

You smile, patting her on the head and setting the paper down. "What do you have for me, an eviction notice?"

She shakes her head fervently from side to side. "Aunt Sandy sent us tickets to her next concert!"

Oh god no.

Not necessarily romantic I know, but… I don't really see Sandy as that kind of character. Someone with a record such as her, she wouldn't be an idiot would she?


End file.
